I don't know if you guys are into this, but since..

I got the day off and it's raining, I figure, if you guys don’t mind, I’d like to share a little story with you. Like I've wrote before, I'm in Northern Japan and have been lucky enough to meet up with another guy here who loves to hunt. He runs a late night noodle shop and uses the venison. Back home this would be more or less impossible, but here it's not only allowed, he usually has a line out the door on the weekends. Deer meat is expensive stuff around here.
Anyway, one night last December, some friends and I got a little liquired up and decided to have a bite to eat on the way home. We stopped in this little inconspicuous place, sat down and ordered. It was busy with the usual suit and tie guys blabbing about nothing. Sitting there, every now and then, I thought I heard a little English, so I would look around, trying to find the source. This was quite a small place, so it wasn't hard to figure out that I was the only "gaijin" there. I heard it again, this time I could tell the guy had a crappy fake southern accent. A few minutes went by and I assumed the guy was outside. So I stood up and opened the front door, expecting to see him standing nearby. But there was no one. I came back in and looked up at the noodle guy, who was looking at me. Above his head to the left was one of those small 13inch TVs. I stood there and focused, which took a bit. Hehe. Then I recognized the face, it was that goofy guy with that odd fake Wyoming accent. Wayne Carlton! I've never been a fan of his, but at that moment I was thrilled to see him. I showed my excitement by buying a round of beers. Wayne was being his typical bonehead self. He called up a sow bear with two cubs and then shot her in the face with pepper spray, and as she ran off moaning, he stood there laughing and dancing like I would if someone shot Wayne in the face with pepper spray. I voiced my displeasure in many colorful Japanese expressions and caught the attention of the shop owner. He asked if I had a problem with hunting. I told him I do, the problem is, I haven't been lately! His faced changed and he again smiled. I could tell he shared my same fervor for anti-hunters. We talked more and "Shingo" asked me to come by early the next night.

I brought piles of hunting pictures and we talked for quite a bit. Then he asked me if I had any snow boots. I told I didn't and he said that wouldn't be a problem. I figured he was about to ask me to hunting with him and I was gettin kinda giddy. Sure enough, the next morning we met up at 3 30. To my surprise he had bought boots (two sizes too small, but I was thrilled) and gloves for me. I brought beef jerky and doughnuts. He brought dried squid and canned coffee. He pulled out a cased rifle from the back of his 4-wheel drive van. He slid the case off and to my delight it was a 7600 rem in 30-06. I used to have the same gun. I knew how to operate perfectly. He handed it to me and said I could use it for the day. He pulled out another case, this time it was a sig-sauer bolt in 300 win mag. I recognized it immediately. They are close to $3000 back home. With a big proud smile on his face and in Engrish he said "This mine!" . We laughed and away we were. On the way he asked weather I'd like to shoot bucks or does. Since luck seemed to be in my favor, I told him I'd like to find a buck. He said ok, but I won't get to do much shooting.
By noon he had five does. I hadn't chambered a round. After lunch we took a steep little dirt road that lead down to the ocean. On our right was a deep, steep draw. I suddenly saw a buck standing on top of the other side, just barely visible through the dense fir trees. I got out of the rig, sat down in the snow and put the hairs right on him. I figured he was 250. I was shooting from my knees. Shingo got out and asked where I was looking. He asked again and the gun roared. The buck folded. Perfect neck shot. He was wooping and hollerin’ so much that for a second I couldn’t tell if I had made a mistake or what. But he was happier than all get out and so was I.
I'm sure you all know the old cliché "Then the real work began." Hehe. I was trying to think of how to say that in Japanese when Shingo made it easy by saying what I thinking with a deep laugh, a little sigh, and by scratching the top of his hat with a "Holy Buddha, that hill is STEEP!" look on his face.
Away we went, with snowshoes, cameras, knives, and rope. Going nearly straight up a 400 ft hill is hard, but with over a foot of snow, it took a monumental effort to get to the top. I went up ahead of him, threw down the rope, and pulled him up. After 15-20 times of that we made to the top. It took an hour. And, as luck would have it, there was a road about 40 yards behind the buck. We could have drove right up to him. But we didn't care. The adventure was much more valuable. In the picture you can see the road we started on in background. The Pacific Ocean is in the top right corner. It was beautiful! After pictures we sat down and had some warm sake from his thermos. It really was a great view. I've never seen snow so close to the ocean. I am just as excited about next season here as you guys are there. I hope you don't mind me sharing these non-mulies here on this site. Someday I'll make it home to hunt the hills of Eastern Oregon again, but till then these Japanese deer will be render plenty of good memories.